The Hollywood Guy (28 page)

In silence, they drive back along the beach road. Pete’s hand is throbbing; Dicey chews up her stick in the back seat. “At least Cleo and Desirée weren’t murdered.”

“Are you too fucked up to go to a ballgame? I might still be able to get us tickets.”

“Better go to the ER in Oxnard – my hand is starting to swell.”

“Anyway, case closed.”

“Cleo loved me, I know she did.”

“If she’s anything like Desirée I see why you were overmatched.”

“Cleo said we were together in another life, that I used her and she killed herself.”

“Payback time, amigo.”

“I’m not taking that route.”

“Never thought you would, not your style. You in too much pain to stop at Tito’s before the ER?”

Pete smiles. “Down with that, amigo.”

S
ome memories are best left undisturbed. Pete never should have gone to Tito’s for carne asada; he got sick and was throwing up when the Yankees, down 4-0, rallied for six runs in the top of the seventh of Game 5. He recovered as the Angels came back in their half of the inning scoring three and regaining the lead, 7-6. The Yankees mounted another rally in the ninth, loading the bases but Nick Swisher popped out ending the game. With the Angels down three games to two, the ALCS moved to the Bronx for the final two games in the best of seven series. Pete flew back to Albany with his dog and drove home to Woodstock.

After a rainout on Saturday, he watched Andy pitch a strong Game Six, winning the big one like he always did. The Yanks were American League champions.

As he predicted, the World Series was an anti-climax, victory was never in doubt as the Philadelphia Phillies fell in six. The Bronx Bombers won their 27
th
World Baseball Championship. Pete revelled in every game, hung on every pitch, rejoiced in the outcome.

Friends find Pete’s mania for the game absurd. Baseball is boring; nothing happens they say. They want the hard hits of football or the speed and grace of basketball. Fans of the National Pastime appreciate a slow build to an often unpredictable finish. For instance: it’s the bottom of the ninth in a scoreless game, check out the mind games that ensue. A batter steps into the box. Pitcher steps off the rubber, then back on to the rubber. The batter steps out of the box again. The catcher goes out to the mound to confab with the pitcher. Who knows what they are talking about, maybe dinner reservations. The catcher goes back behind the plate; maybe he farts to disturb the batter. Is this boring or interesting? The pitcher stares at the batter who stares back at him. They are finally set. The wind-up, the pitch - batter hits a nubber, legs it out for an infield single. The first baseman is irate, disagrees vehemently with the call; here comes his manager to protest. A thoughtful strategist in the dugout, he blows his stack on the field, kicking dirt on the umpire’s shoes. Sacrilege, he’s banished, thrown out of the game. Is this interesting or boring? The action resumes. The next batter works the count, fouls off ten pitches. Some people would rather watch paint dry but to the cognoscenti this is a great at-bat, a battle. The runner goes, the batter swings, loops one over the second baseman’s head, the runner on his way to third, slides, beating the tag. Wow! Next batter hits a short fly ball to center. The runner, who is fast, tags as the centerfielder, who has a great arm, throws. The catcher, protected by his tools of ignorance, blocks the plate. This is what the game comes down to. The ball beats the runner who crashes into the catcher. You can hear the sound of the collision, see the ball jolt free as the runner caroms across home plate to score the game winner. Exciting, you bet. The scenarios are endless, but one thing is always certain: there’s another game tomorrow with a chance to make amends for the mistakes you made today. Baseball is a game of second chances; redemption is always one pitch or one hit or one catch away. Maybe next time you’ll even be a hero.

Pete started work on the novel the day after the Series ended, no procrastination. He figured that when Desirée screamed,
Top Of The World,
Cleo was giving him the green light on their project. The title page attributes the book,
Sex Act,
to Petur Stefansson and Cleo Johnson. He writes mostly in Cleo and Desirée’s voices, as he remembers them. All he has are memories. He doesn’t try to differentiate between truth and fiction; why mess up a good story? It begins in Marshalltown, Iowa, and ends with the CIA hit in Mexico - Carlos dying in the arms of the blond who betrayed him. Pete is the sexually obsessed narrator.

There are many unanswered questions. Did Cleo read his book, and then come to Woodstock to seek him out, or did she run away from Roy and serendipitously end up at the Streamside? And what about Roy, did he drag her back to LA or did she call him to come and get her? And of course there’s the ultimate final question: past lives?

The novel begins with the fragment he wrote while she masturbated. “
The house we lived in, my room on the second floor, a tree outside the window. I remember a baby falling in the lake, I remember gazing at the sky. I remember my mother’s voice. I remember my father’s hands.”
When he has a first draft he plans to fly to LA and show it to Seberg who lives at the Hayworth Apartments. Get her input.

He had an interesting conversation with Marcus Bergman last Thanksgiving; the producer still hadn’t paid him the
Strawberries
fee. Marcus finally admitted that he didn’t actually own the rights to the Ingmar Bergman classic and couldn’t in all good conscience pay Pete to adapt it. On the other hand, if he wanted to give
Strawberries
a Hollywood haircut, Bergman might be interested in doing business with him after the script was finished.
Strawberries
the musical is on the back burner while he punches up dialogue on the new series. It pays well and since the economy is still heading south, he needs the cash flow.

Soong Lee broke her engagement with Bobby after she found the photo album of nude photographs of ex-girlfriends with her split beaver on the last page. She took no pride in her inclusion. He’s determined to win her back.

The charge against Jackson for ‘Possession with Intent’ was dropped because of illegal search and seizure. One of the cops warned the kid afterward that they would be on the lookout for him. Pete never told Jackson the complete story about his daughter’s trip to LA.

The Sidewinders are steadily building a regional reputation. Local radio stations KZE and DST play the demo, now for sale online. Jackson has a bunch of new songs and Pete is going to book time at the Dreamaway for another recording session. He’s officially managing the band, but Jamie does most of the work.

He never made it to Iceland with Ingrid for Christmas but firmly committed to going with her for Summer Solstice in June. He’s hoping to take Annabeth to meet her mishpucha. His daughter returned from Europe and is attending spring semester across the river at Bard College. Things are still awkward between them and she hasn’t spoken to Jackson yet.

Pete’s spiritual dialogue with Brother Ray continues, but his meditative breakthrough was short-lived. His thoughts are still invaded by phantoms from his past. One thing he did stop was playing poker; he realized he didn’t care about winning or losing any more.

The Annual Spring Exhibition opens tonight at the Woodstock Artists Association and Pete invited Annabeth to accompany him. She surprised her father by saying yes and now he’s waiting in the dark living room, watching the news on television. Dicey lies with her chin on his foot. He’s feeling guilty because he told Jackson about his daughter’s visit. The story Pete is following on TV is the Health Care debate consuming the administration. He’s pissed to see a watered down version of the bill coming up for a vote in Congress. Must progress always be compromised?

A car pulls up outside; it’s Annabeth. She never makes it to the front door because Jackson ambushes her on the porch. Pete watches them through the window. It’s going to be a long conversation but somehow it’s starting with a hug. Dicey trails Pete out the back door into town.

It was a cold winter but it’s finally warming up. Sunbursts of forsythia herald the coming of spring. Pete has the dog on a leash, taking no chances.

He makes his way to the handsome meetinghouse adjacent to the village piazza. Locals schmoose outside on the bluestone steps drinking white wine in plastic cups like the city sophisticates they don’t want to emulate. Pete nods to George and Wendy who keep threatening to invite him to dinner, stops to talk to Jamie and Brother Ray. As usual her pierced labia comes to mind. She shakes her head, pushes him inside. Dicey follows.

A juried show is up in the main gallery. Pete admires a metal sax player fashioned out of scrap by his friend Ivan. The realtor, Edith Evans, is working the room, on the make, refusing to believe Pete is celibate again. He shrugs. Life is simple and he wants to keep it that way. He wanders into the rear gallery.

To his surprise, the permanent collection is featuring the work of Al Bellows. Landscapes of the Downing farm hang on the walls along with a sketch of Little Petey and Mary Ann playing with Boomer. Pete’s face lights up. On the far wall is a painting of two nude women wearing hats, sitting on stools. A stranger stops to look at the canvas with him.

“That’s my mother,” Pete exclaims in wonderment. “The one in the beret.”

“That’s my mother with the feather.”

Pete turns to the woman. Susie? Not with those green eyes. “Mary Ann?”

“Petey.”

“They said you were dead.”

“Susie died, the Woodstock paper got it wrong. I just found out when I came back to sell the farm.”

They gaze at the painting, flashing on the day they discovered their mothers posing. Mary Ann takes Pete’s hand. “That day.”

“We saw them.”

“How beautiful they were.”

“And you.”

“Us.”

Pete follows Mary Ann out of the gallery. Driving down Zena Road, Dicey stands in the back seat sniffing the world going by outside. The Downing fields have been plowed and planted; lights burn in the farmhouse on the hill.

“What happened to your folks?”

“Dad died in an automobile accident coming home from a gig. Mom moved to Oaxaca. She loved it down there, became a potter. Susie traveled a lot, at some point she came to live with me in Seattle.”

“You married?”

“Three kids, two grandchildren. What about you, Petey?”

“Married three times, divorced three times, one adored child.”

“I often thought about us back then.”

“Me too, but I couldn’t imagine you now.”

“I would have known you anywhere.”

She turns up the driveway. He lets Dicey out of the car. They stare at the old house.

“Am I dreaming?”

She holds out her hand, leads him to the kitchen door. Pete follows her up the creaky stairs to the attic. Her bedroom is empty; neither Cleo nor Desirée wait for them. Without a word, two shy grownups take off all their clothes, hug innocently.

Outside a black dog chases her shadow under a full moon.

L
ike the Hollywood guy, Jack grew up in the Bronx, lived in the Village and made a career in Los Angeles. No Icelandic roots or hit TV series. A successful nuts and bolts line producer and assistant director with a couple of produced screenplays -
Band of The Hand
with Leo Garen and
Great Balls Of Fire
and
Uncovered
with Jim McBride. He also directed
Destiny Turns On The Radio
.

Nowadays he lives in upstate New York with the love of his life for 31 plus years. They had a daughter, but lost her. Jack’s next book is about her.